Destiny and Time Divide You
by writersblock87
Summary: "You won't be strong enough. She's the key. Her and her alone. Destiny and time divide you. Without her, you can only live half a life. " Fun with prophecies and time travel! A work in progress...fyi I own nothing HP, just having a little fun! Thank you all for the nice reviews!
1. The Prophecy

Tom Riddle strolled down the hall to the Slytherin Common room, thinking of a meeting he had planned that evening with a few of his most ardent followers. Soon, very soon, he would initiate his plan to ensure his own power and immortality and their unwavering support was key. His entire life had been building to this moment, the moment he would fracture his own soul.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice the first year girl who scooted past him, nervously avoiding him, until she fell to the ground. He heard a thunk as she hit the ground. Her papers flew across the stone floor.

He turned, looking at the girl crumpled on the ground. She was immobile, with a nasty gash to her forehead beginning to bleed, matting her long blond hair. Suddenly, she sat straight up, her big, blue eyes unblinking. She stared at him, her eyes glazed over. Her hand raised, her finger pointed at him.

"You won't be strong enough. She's the key. Her and her alone. Destiny and time divide you. Without her, you can only live half a life. "

The girl slumped again. Riddle froze a moment, stunned by her words. His mind began to race, but a low moan from the girl broke his trance. He rushed to her, shaking her shoulders until she began to wake.

"Girl, what just happened to you?"

"I don't know, Mr. Riddle. I was walking along and it all went dark." She looked afraid, likely of his reputation.

"You don't remember anything. Nothing you said? Nothing you saw?" He tried to infuse a note of compassion on his voice, but he couldn't quite pull it off. He had never excelled at comforting others, not that he had ever really tried.

"No sir." The girl replied, reaching her hand up to inspect the gash on her head.

"Get yourself to the hospital wing, girl."

He worked hard to control the tone of his voice, to give away no hint of the emotion he was feeling. Inside, however, he was reeling. He rushed through the common room, avoiding the attempts of several subordinates to engage him. They, being use to his moods, simply averted their eyes and pretended not to notice his angry expression.

He made his way to his room. It was unusual to have a room of one's own within the dorms, but the other Slytherin males were only too happy to crowd themselves in to the other boys dormitory space to ensure his comfort. His space was quite cozy, including a rather large bed and a comfortable seating area in addition to his desk and shelves full of books and items from his collection of magical artifacts.

He threw himself on to his bed, replaying the girl's words over and over. There was no sense in disputing that the girl had had a vision. Her prophecy rang with truth, especially given his coming plans.

"Without her, you can only live half a life." He had spent his entire life avoiding any such connection. He prided himself on the fact that he did not need anyone in his life. He did use people from time to time, but only for singular purposes and they were always disposable to him.

Whoever she was, of course, he needed to find her. The prophecy didn't specify her exact usefulness, but he had faith enough in himself to know that he could quickly deduce how said woman could be of use to him. He twirled his family ring about as he pondered his next step. No descendant of Salazar Slytherin would let something so mundane stand in his way.

The part he really couldn't quite wrap his head around was "Destiny and time divide you." Was it just space, a simple summoning spell could resolve the issue. Time and destiny, however, were another matter entirely. The vagueness of divination has always been one of the main reason he put such little stock in its study. Still, he was quite confident that there was no problem too great for him to solve…no destiny he could not bend to his own will.


	2. The Baron

Tom continued his preoccupation with the prophecy. He was so focused, in fact that he cancelled his planned meeting to solidify his forces before creating his first horcrux. In part, his mind was too fixated on finding a way to find the mysterious girl from the prophecy. The second, and far more embarrassing reason, was that he had a small voice in his head telling him that if he began his enterprise before he solved the riddle it was doomed to failure.

He spent countless nights in the restricted section of the library, even ransacked the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, but it was all useless. There was no hint of a spell or dark object that that could pull a person through time and space. His frustration had begun to seep in to every aspect of his life. He couldn't sleep, didn't eat. He had spent hours attempting to interrogate the first year who had conveyed the prophecy. The stink of fear each time he spoke to her had convinced him that she would gladly have told him any further information if she could have, just to escape him.

His followers had taken to remaining completely silent around him, only speaking when spoken to. It was for that reason that he was quite startled when he heard a rather cultured voice coming from behind him as he sat gazing into the fire in his room.

"Mr. Riddle, I know how you can find what you seek."

Tom turned to see none other than the Bloody Baron hovering behind him.

"I highly doubt that Baron." He said with no attempt to disguise the annoyance in his voice.

"You forget, my boy, that I spent the better part of my life attempting to bring Rowena to my side. I searched the earth for any possible way to secure the woman one desires most. " The Baron looked almost wistful as he spoke.

"If you knew of such a method, then why didn't you use it yourself? Why did you chase her to the ends of the earth?"

"Ah, well, she wasn't in a different time. It was not destiny that stood between us. It was her will that was insurmountable. Still, I gathered a good bit on information during my search. I was abroad when I heard of the legend of a local man who lost his love when he was quite young. He devoted his life to finding the Hallows. When he failed, he began to think that defeating time might be easier than cheating death. "

"I imagine it would be. That doesn't mean that it is possible." Tom did his best to hide his growing excitement as he spoke, but he began to feel a strange sense of optimism even greater than when he had convinced Slughorn to share the details of horcrux creation with him.

"Oh it is very possible. You see, this wizard speculated that if the object of his desire was called from a moment in which her grasp on life was tenuous as best, it would be possible draw them through time. His love was brutally murdered. He knew that there was a moment before her death that she could be called from."

"So he stole her from death's grasp?"

"No, no not exactly. You see, he felt the desire for her with every heartbeat. It seeped in to his blood. It took him a while to realize it, but the merger of his desire and his blood, his life force, created magic in its most potent form. He deduced that blood could call to blood if the desire was strong enough. Her life force just needs to be weak enough that it can be conquered by the force of your own."

"And how could I possibly know that some mystery woman from some unknown time and place has had such a moment?"

The Baron looked a bit smug just then, calmly stating "My boy, I'll wager that any women who might be of some use to you in what you have planned will have had more than one such moment."

"Why are you helping me?" Tom asked with a hint of wariness and disbelief in his voice.

"Ah, Riddle, just because I failed in my quest doesn't mean I don't still believe in the power of love. I want you to be happy my boy; to have every joy in life on your way to great power."

"The prophecy made no mention of love and I hold no stock in it, but I thank you for your help."

"Oh I have a feeling that this girl will change that, but only time will tell. I have an endless amount of that on my hands and I do look forward to seeing how this plays out."

With those words, the Baron passed through the wall and left Tom alone in the fire's glow. As the flames dances, he caught their reflection on one of the daggers amongst his collected artifacts and his plan began to form.


	3. The Ritual

Tom gathered his inner circle in the Room of Requirements, 12 Slytherin diehards who would lay down their lives to further his vision of pureblood domination. In fact it was that dedication that Riddle was counting on to make his plan work. He had spent the three days since his conversation with The Bloody Baron trying to think of a way that he could ensure that his blood was strong enough to draw the mysterious girl from the prophecy through time to him. The Baron had emphasized the role that desire and love could play in the process. While his desire to find her was strong, he did not believe in romantic love and therefore could not rely on such silliness to aid him in his quest.

His followers sat in a circle around him, eagerly awaiting his explanation of their next step. He had told them only that he needed them to gather and prove their loyalty.

"I thank you all for joining me this evening. You have all expressed your desire to serve me and my cause to the fullest extent. I ask you now to prove it. I need you to prove to me that your greatest desire is to further my cause."

Though none of those assembled dared to speak, they all nodded their heads in unison, so committed were they to him.

"I need to harness your powers to strengthen my own. I need to access a more primal form of magic." As he spoke, he pulled a dagger from under his robes. The handle was formed of two serpents intertwined. "I do not ask you to give your lives on this day, but I do need your blood. I need to access your life force in order to pull one who can ensure our victory through time and space. Join me now and ensure our future!"

He handed the dagger to Scaripus Black, a suave young man of above average intellect and appearance, and gestured to a silver dish positioned in the center of the circle. Scar, as he was commonly called, did not hesitate. He drew the blade across his palm and let his blood flow freely in to the vessel. He then passed the blade to the next, and so on.

The vial filled quickly, nearly brimming over as the last of his subordinates, a scrawny blonde Malfoy boy with a rather distinguished face, made his sacrifice. He then returned to his spot in the circle, facing Riddle with the rest of the group, awaiting his next step.

Without any explanation, Riddle lifted the dagger from its spot on the table and ran it across the inside of each of his hands, letting the blood drain until it overflowed. It was then that he began to focus only on his desire to acquire the girl. He blocked out his followers, the room, and focused on nothing but his blood and his desire. He was so focused on her, in fact, that a strange yet familiar face began to form in his mind's eye. The girl was his own age and quite lovely, with an intelligent face framed by a riot of curly brown hair. It was, however, the eyes of the strange girl that he focused on as he channeled his blood desire.

He was so absorbed that he did not even realize that he had begun to chant "Sanguine sanguineous" over and over. His stunned followers joined in without consciously doing so, so connected were they to the primal magic he was weaving.

The chants filled the room, echoing off the cavernous walls, the pace quickening with each repetition.

"Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous"

Tom could feel her moving closer, could feel the universe bending to his will.

"Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous Sanguine sanguineous"

Suddenly, a shudder ran through his body and he abruptly stopped, as did the others in the room. He felt exhausted, yet there was a new feeling, a feeling he couldn't quite identify. He looked about, knowing that she was now near, but saw no trace. His mind was racing, what might he have done differently? His thoughts were interrupted by a scream coming from the corridor outside of the Room of Requirements.

Tom threw himself through the door, into the hallway. Students were gathered around a slumped body on the floor. It was then that he saw that fool Dumbledore reach the scene. Tom watched in disbelief as the crowd separated to make room for the professor to reach the unfortunate creature. As they separated, Tom realized that the body lying on the stone floor was that of a girl. She was badly bruised, with several wounds seeping into bloody pools on the floor. The worst appeared to be coming from her forearm, with an angry gash on her neck rivaling it in severity.

As Dumbeldore pushed back her tangled hair to reveal her face, Tom's breath caught in his through. He knew that face, those eyes. She was the one, the one he needed to complete his work. Something sparked inside of him when he laid eyes upon her. He wanted nothing more than to gather her up, to take her away from all those looking upon her. He wanted her to belong only to him. Destiny and time were no longer an obstacle. She was his now and she would make all the difference.


	4. The Awakening

Hermione awoke alone in the Hospital Wing. Her mind was racing. Her last memory was of the feeling of Bellatrix Lestrange's knife against her next. The bandage around her neck and sharp pain she felt confirmed that to be a true memory. What she couldn't understand was how she had gone from that moment, to this one. Though she was quite sore and very weak, she was warmly tucked in a comfortable bed in a familiar environment. If it weren't for the pain, she would be fairly sure it was all an illusion cooked up by her brain to shield her from Bellatrix's torture.

Another anomaly that she couldn't rationalize was the fact that she had woken up alone. Harry and Ron had been with her at Malfoy Manor. If they had been rescued, one of them would have been by her bedside when she woke. There had been others; she was very sure, in the basement of the Manor who would also have needed medical care. Why were none of them here recuperating? The dark thought that perhaps she was the only survivor was seemed more and more likely as he continued to analyze her situation. The thought of such loss, such sacrifice overtook her and she began to feel the grief overtake her. Professor Dumbledore came rushing towards her and the site of her dead mentor was just too much for her battered mind to handle and she lost consciousness.

Tom often used the pipes and passageways that connected to the Chamber of Secrets to gain access to various parts of the castle, but he could honestly say that this was the first time he had reduced himself to eavesdropping, and in the hospital wing no less. Still, he needed information on the girl and he was fairly sure that no professors, not even that idiot Slugghorn, would freely share it with him. It was for that reason that he now crouched in an air vent high on one of the walls near where she was being kept.

While all the other students rushed towards her as she lay unconscious in the hallway to appease their curiosity, Tom had sauntered off to the Chamber unseen, knowing that this would give him the ideal vantage point to learn all he needed to know.

He had seen Dumbledore carry her in, and the nurses had descended upon her wounds. After stoping the excessive bleeding from her neck and forearm, they had turned to cleaning and bandaging her many smaller injuries, including what appeared to Tom to be a sprained ankle and a separated shoulder. The girl never regained consciousness, never made a sound as the worked on her. The occasional flinch was the only thing that assured him that she was alive.

The professor had wasted no time ordering the nurses to evacuate the few students in the wing to a vacant suite of rooms on the other side of the castle. Tom suspected that the old fool was a bit worried that whoever had caused the girls wounds wasn't done with her. Dumbledore had then slipped out himself to organize a protective detail for the girl and cast protection charms around the wing.

Tom was quite curious about the nature of her wounds himself. They were clearly the product of extensive torture, but what information could that girl have that would merit such force and what strength she must have had to withstand it. As he sat there, alone with his thoughts, he grew more and more curious about who she was and what life he had pulled her from.

He sat, watching her sleep for what felt like hours, when finally she began to rouse. He watched her slowly open her eyes and take in every detail of her surroundings, like a battle tested soldier. Though she was clearly disoriented, the look on her face remained fiercely determined. It was only when Dumbledore returned to the room and began to approach her that she looked truly distressed. He had never liked the man, but seeing her so overcome that she lost consciousness at the site of him only confirm his animosity. There was clearly a history between them, whether in the past or in the future.

The one thing that Tom Riddle did know for sure was that it would not be long before he found out.


	5. Prophecy Girl

Tom watched as the professor shrugged his shoulders and left the room, clearly off to discuss the state of affairs with the headmaster. Tom wasted no time. He whirled around and exited the vent as quickly as he could, careful not to rouse her. He rushed towards the Chamber of Secrets, his own private lair. Though he had not yet let Slytherin's monster loose on the school yet, he spent much of his time in the Chamber, plotting and waiting for the time to strike.

It was there that he kept a batch of polyjuice potion, always at the ready. He had even stockpiled a bit of each professor's hair, never knowing when taking on their likeness might come in handy. In a snap, he had transformed himself in to Albus Dumbledore and was making his way back towards the mysterious girl who held the key to the prophecy. When he entered the room, she was already beginning to stir again.

"How are you my girl?" He asked, hating the sound of Dumbledore's voice coming from his mouth. He sat down on the edges of her bed and waited for her answer, but she was ghastly pale and staring at him as though she saw a ghost.

"Professor, how can this be?" She asked in awe as he leaned closer to her.

"What ever is the matter?" He asked, trying to mimic words he thought the professor might say. He wanted nothing but for her to snap out of the state of shock she seemed to be in and give him the answers he needed. What lay between her and Dumbledore in the past and what did it mean for Tom's future.

Perhaps that was what the prophecy meant. She had information he needed, he told himself. What happened next shocked even him, though, and he was fairly certain until that moment that nothing in the world could have shaken him.

Gently, the wounded, pale girl before him reached out her hand gently and pressed it to his cheek. Nobody had dared to touch him in such a way. Perhaps it was his menacing reputation or his standoffish personality. He had never thought, not for a moment, that the lack of it bothered him. That all changed, though, when her cold fingers came to rest on his cheek.

"I am so very glad to see you," the girl said, fighting back tears.

"My dear, do we know each other?" He asked, forcing himself to play the role.

"Not yet, professor," she said with a sad smile.

"But you care for me?" He asked, shocked. Tom could not imagine that anyone who was to be the key to his success could care at all of that do-gooder Dumbledore .

"Very much professor," she said as tears began to fall down her cheeks. Tom was not sure what possessed him, but he reached out and brushed a stray tear from her face. It was foolish, he told himself later. He should have taken it to a pensive to reveal her secrets. In that second though, he just could not bare to see her pretty face streaked with tears.

"Tell me, my child," he said encouragingly, trying to draw himself back to the mission at hand.

"I wish I could. You do not know how much I wish that I could. I want nothing more than to change it all. Still, you are the one who told me the dangers of time travel. I am sure I have already caused more problems than I can fix by just being here. I cannot tell you what is to come," she said, looking as though the words pained her.

"Then you have come from the future," he said, not sure why it surprised him so. After all, no spell of his had ever failed to reach its target. This one though, he thought proudly, was especially impressive even for him.

"Yes, professor," she answered. He looked deep in to her eyes then and was shocked by what he saw. She was a young girl, around his own age. Still, her eyes were full of sorrow and pain such that he had never seen before. Whoever this girl was, she had been though hell and somehow still had the resolve to say no to a professor in the face of the greater good. Whoever she was, he could not deny her appeal.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" He asked, eager for her to keep talking and reveal more of herself and the time that she came from.

"I suppose that cannot hurt. I am Hermione Granger," she said, offering him her hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger," he said, studying her as he spoke. She was lovely. There was no denying that. Their air of grief around her only added a mournful quality to that beauty that drew him too her even more strongly. His heart quickened and his breath caught in his throat. Whoever she was, she was a part of him now whether he wanted it or not.

"You're wounds are quite deep," he said as he inspected several of the wounds to her neck and arms.

"Yes, I suppose they are. They do not hurt though. Your medical team in this time is very skilled," she whispered, though he could tell that the ordeal had exhausted her.

"I am glad to hear that," he said, for once in his life glad to see that a person was not in pain.

"Professor, why haven't you asked me how I came to be in this time?" She asked, looking suddenly suspicious. After all that she had been through, she was ever the soldier, defending herself against all that might harm her or those she loved.

"Because I know exactly what brought you here. I just need to learn why and I am afraid that I will not be able to with your guard up," he said, reaching in his robes for his wand.

"I do not understand, professor," she said, watching him as Dumbledore's features began to fade away and be replaced by his own.

"Obliviate," he whispered, his wand pressed to her forehead gently. He then whisperd, "Slumnos," and slowly, she lay back down on the bed and drifted off to sleep.

He rose to leave but could not fore himself to go. He wanted to feel her touch upon his own skin, not Dumbledore's. He reached down and lifted her hand, pressing it against his cheek once more. He might have stayed like that until she awoke again had he not heard muffled voices in the corridor. It was time, he knew, to leave her. Still, it caused him greater pain than he had ever imaged to do so.


	6. Sleeping Heart

Though Tom had to leave the room, he could not bring himself to leave the girl entirely. He resumed his spot watching from the grate and tried to piece together what he knew. She had obviously come to him as a result of his spell. He just needed to learn why. He needed to deduce what it was he needed from her to allow him to become the most feared wizard to ever live.

He watched in silence, waiting for the nurses to finish checking her over. They were not at all suspicious of the sleep spell he had cast on her, attributing her deep sleep to all she had endured. After all, her body was gravely wounded and they had given her some potent magic to start the healing process. The healing potion itself could be quite painful and, soon enough, she began to moan and toss and turn as it began to work upon her. She called out for her mother and father. That did not surprise him. He knew enough about pain to know that was who people usually turned to for comfort, his own life experience just left him unable to sympathize.

"Harry, Harry look out," she screamed from her nightmare, thrashing back and forth in agony. The words caught him off guard. Who was this Harry she was so concerned for? Was he her lover? Did he still live? Whoever he was, she cared deeply for him. Tom was filled with a powerful hatred for him, whoever he was. Though he had only just discovered Hermione Granger, he had no plans to share her attentions with any other.

His fury was not quoted by her next words. "Ronald, Ronald where are you? I need you," she whispered, calmer this time as the pain of the healing potion began to fade.

He was fuming with anger at the thought of this Harry and that Ronald. He was so consumed by his rage that he nearly missed what she said next. "Voldemort," she whispered. "He's coming," she said, so quietly he could barely make out the words. Then, she was deep asleep again, her body to exhausted from all that she had endured.

He lay there, frozen. Not even his closest followers knew that name, the name he had crafted so carefully to free himself of the burden and shame of his muggle father's name. How did this girl know his secret, when he had trusted no other with it. If she had been anyone else, he would have killed her to ensure the secret remained his until he was ready to reveal himself to the world as Lord Voldemort. It would have been easy enough. He could even have made it look like she succumbed to her original injuries. Nobody would ever suspect him. Still, even the thought of hurting her caused a coldness to creep in to his heart. No, he could not harm her. She knew his secrets, it was only fair that he learned hers and that was exactly what he intended to do. Hermione Granger would belong to him; mind, body, and soul.


	7. Face to Face

When Hermione awoke again, she was greeted by the real Dumbledore. As she explained to him again what she had told to Tom, she had a strange sense of Deja vue. In the end, he agreed with her that she should tell him as little as possible. Still, they had no way of knowing what had brought her there. They momentarily considered the use of a time turner to get her back home, but they agreed that it would be best to wait. They needed to better understand the reason she was grown through time in the first place.

The second problem was, of course, how to explain her presence to the other students and teachers. In the end, it was Hermione who came up with a solution. They would tell everyone that she was a 7th year from Beauxbatons who was considering a career as a professor. Her presence would be explained as simply her desire to observe Hogwarts teaching methods.

Even she had to admire her creativity on that one. Having a solid cover story relaxed her a bit, though she still knew that she could be in grave danger of destroying the future entirely if she misstepped. Dumbledore arranged for her to stay in a vacant room in one of the corridors usually reserved for visiting professors. As there were none at the time, she had the entire hall to herself. Usually she would have found that lonely, but she knew that the more she held herself back from others, the better it was for them all. Besides, Dumbledore had given her full library privileges, including the restricted section.

Her wounds were beginning to heal, though she could still see the word Mudblood faintly outlined on her arm. All of the healers potions had not been able to fully heal the wound. They had deemed her well enough to leave their care and rejoin the world of the living. She had just finished dressing in the borrowed robes the professor had acquired for her when there was a knock at the door.

"I am here to show Ms. Granger to her rooms," said the smooth voice of a young man. Hermione could not see him because the curtain around her bed was pulled but he seemed quite comfortable there.

"Of course Tom," said the healer who greeted him. "I will fetch her for you."

"There is no need Madame Planx," Hermione said as she pulled back the curtain. She could not have prepared for what she saw before her though. There, in all his 17 year old glory was the Dark Lord himself. She felt herself begin to tremble as the edges of her barely healed worlds began to burn at the sight of him. All of the pain and loss he had caused her nearly took her voice away.

"Ms. Granger," he said, bowing politely towards her.

"Hello," she said, forcing herself to greet him without showing fear.

"I am Tom Riddle," he said as he took a step toward her and extended his hand.

"I am Hermione Granger," she said, standing tall and proud in the face of one who would one day cause so much pain for her and all those she loved.

"Dumbledore asked that I show you to your lodging. Can I take your bag for you?" He asked, looking around for her suitcase.

"That will not be necessary. I do appreciate the professor's idea but I am sure I can find it on my own," she answered.

"I insist," he said, a steely undertone to his words as he held open the door for her. Realizing that it made no sense to continue to argue with him, she followed him in to the hall. After all, the longer she argued with him the more time she was forced to spend with him and she was not sure how much more she could stand.

Tom was relived when he realized she was going to come with him willingly. He was not sure what he expected when they finally came face to face, but he had not been prepared for what he saw. The moment she laid eyes on him, her face when pale. She looked as though she had seen a ghost. Still, she did not blink. She did not take a step away from him. She simply stood there, unwilling to back down from him though something about him obvious troubled her deeply.

Something about seeing her so upset triggered something within him. Never in his life had he felt the need to protect another. Watching her, though, he wanted nothing more than to comfort her. It was a strange and uncomfortable feeling. Part of him wanted to retreat from her, but a larger part of him wanted to be near her, to explore what she made him feel. After all, he prided himself on being the most learned wizard of his age. He could not turn a blind eye to something that affected him so. He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not realize they were nearly there and he was wasting precious time to learn more about her.

"I had expected you to be French," he said, trying to sound casual.

"Yes, well I was born in London and my parents are both British. They simply work in France so it made the most sense for me to attend school near them," she said, lying easily to him.

"I saw you when you arrived," he said, stopping in his tracks and forcing her to stop and face him.

"Yes, well it was a bit embarrassing," she said, sensing that they were close to her room and a private sanctuary where she could precession all that had happened.

"Well yes, that was embarrassing," she said, meeting his suspicious gaze without blinking.

"Embarrassing?" He asked, as though he did not believe a world she said. His head cocked playfully though, as if it amused him.

"Yes, I have never apparatus so face before and I got splinched," she said with a stony look in her eyes, daring him to challenge her explanation.

"These are your rooms," he said, opening the door that stood before them. Hermione was surprised by her surroundings. She had expected a small room. Instead, she found herself standing in a sitting room with several large wooden door that led to the bedroom and a study. It was truly a home of her own and there was something at once comforting about it. After all she had suffered and endured, she had a quiet, peaceful place to heal and to try and understand what had happened to her.

While she looked about, Tom studied her. She seemed so relieved and so vulnerable all at once.

"Are you sure I cannot fetch your bags for you?" He offered.

"No, I am afraid I have none yet. An unfortunate consequence of the splinching. I will have to make a trip to Hogsmeade to replace my things," she said as she ran her hand along the luxurious velvet arm chair seated near the already roaring fireplace.

"I will see that one of the house elves brings you a meal and some hot chocolate," he offered, realizing that he would soon have no excuse to linger and observe her.

"Please do not if they are busy. I would not want to cause them any trouble," she said, realizing only after the worlds escaped her mouth that she was still talking to a monster.

"You worry about causing a house elf trouble?" He asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Yes," she said, her expression defiant. "They have so much work to do already. I do not want to add to it."

"I will send up a house elf," he repeated, turning and leaving before he said something that revealed a part of his true self to her. He prided himself on keeping his facade in place at all times.

Once Tom left, Hermione fell in to the chair near the fire and felt every muscle in her body begin to relax. She was home at Hogwarts. Whatever else had happened or would happen, at least she had that.

Tom did not relax after their parting. Usually, being by himself was the only place he could relax but he suddenly felt lonely for the first time in his life. He wanted to stay near her, to solve the mystery that she presented. The way she had stood there, openly lying to him as though it were nothing, was eye opening to him. Nobody lied to him or denied him anything. Very few people even made eye contact with him. This mysterious girl, center of his prophecy and brought to him by magic, was getting more intriguing by the moment and he did not plan to be denied.


	8. Night Terrors

Tom was restless through the night. He left his room in Slytherin, intent on going to the chamber of secrets to research some of the dark magic and curses that had peeked his interest. Somehow, though, he found himself in the corridor where Hermione's room was. He was content just to walk past her door, to ensure himself that all was ok. He might have believed it to, if the screaming had not begun. She was the only one staying in that wing and there was every chance that whoever assaulted her had returned to finish the job.

Tom began to run and did not stop until he reached her door. He threw it open and rushed through the sitting room to the bedroom, expecting to find some monster assaulting her. Instead, he found her deep asleep, trapped in a nightmare. Her body thrashed around as though she were being tortured, but she showed no signs of waking. Whatever torture her mind was putting her through, she was trapped there.

He needed to know what was causing her so much pain. Without hesitation, he pulled his wand from his robes and pointed it directly at the sleeping girl. "Reveal," he commanded as his surroundings faded and were replaced by a large, luxurious room he did not recognize. There, on the floor, was Hermione. She writhed in pain, though she did not give the dark haired witch who was torturing her the satisfaction of crying out and begging for the torment to end. It was the bravest thing he had ever seen. He could not imagine any of the other girls he knew standing up to such an assault. All the while, the older witch was screeching at her, commanding her to give her the information she wanted. The crazed woman promised her anything, her own safety, the safety of her friends, even money. Still, the brave girl did not even consider it. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was resolved to die if she had to to keep her secrets.

With that, he could stand it no longer. He pulled himself from her dream and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her violently to pull her from her nightmare. When she came to, in the dark room, she did the strangest thing. She wrapped her arms around him instinctively, as though to prove to herself that she was truly safe in her room at Hogwarts. It took him completely by surprise though. Nobody had ever relied on him for comfort of any kind before. They could sense the darkness within him. There was something oddly pleasant about this mysterious girl seeking safety in his arms though. If he had his way, she would have remained their longer but she soon realized exactly whose arms she was in. Hermione, shocked at herself, pulled back from him. Better to be tortured a thousand times by Ballatrix than to find comfort in the arms of a murderer.

"What are you doing here Riddle," she demanded. Her demeanor was cold, but it did not bother Tom and he made no effort to move from her bed.

"Is that the thanks I get for pulling you from that nightmare? You were screaming so loud I am surprised half the castle didn't come running. I thought you were being murdered," he said, studying her closely. He knew that something about him bothered her and he needed her to let down her guard enough to let him know exactly what it was.

"I do apologize," she said, looking at him as though she wanted nothing more than to end him right there.

"You do not care for me, do you Ms. Granger," he said, watching her fade closely.

"We know nothing of each other. How could I dislike you," she said, though she made no effort to hide the blatant lie in her words.

"We hurt you?" He demanded.

"I hurt myself remember. Such a terrible splinching," she said, her eyes locked with his.

"I will learn the truth. One day I will know what happened to you," he said, leaning closer as he spoke. At his words, she let out a humorless laugh that took him by surprise.

"I know for a fact that one day you will know everything that happened to me," she said, clearly alluding to something he could not know or understand.

"You are speaking in riddles," he said in frustration.

"And we both know how much you hate Riddles," she said, with such a tone that he was almost certain she had seen his deep hatred for the family of his muggle father. It was ludicrous. She could not possible know, but something deep inside told him she knew exactly what she had said.

"I would very much like to really know you," he said, the words surprising him as much as they surprised her.

"I think if you knew the truth of who I am, you would change your mind," she said, a smirk playing a both on her lips. It was only then that he realized what she was wearing. Apparently, someone had arranged for new garments to be delivered for her because she lay before him in a silken nightgown, the loveliest shade of Slytherin green. He had never bothered much with females. He used them when he had a physical need, but his thoughts were always consumed with his plotting and planning. Looking at her in that moment, though, he could think of nothing but the beautiful girl in front of him, not even the prophecy.

"I am willing to risk that," he said, a charming smile enough to dazzle even Hermione for a moment.

"Alright, Riddle. I will me going to Hogsmeade tomorrow to replace my lost clothing and other items. You can join me if you would like," she answered.

"With pleasure," he said as he rose to leave her. " Sleep well."

"I am sure that I will now," she said. He was too smug, believing that's had won a victory, to notice the calculating look on her face.

Once he left, she fell back on the bed and let the gravity of her realization wash over her. She had the chance to do what others could not. She was going to stop Voldemort before he ever made his first horcrux. She had never taken a life before, but she knew what needed to be done. She knew how to save her friends and family. She just had to find a way to live with it.


End file.
